


suspended animation

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Armitage Hux, Creampie, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Submissive Armitage Hux, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Suspension Kink, Top Kylo Ren, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Kylo takes advantage of his recently attained untouchable status as Supreme Leader, turning his new throne room into a stage for his sexual experimentation with General Hux.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 175





	suspended animation

**Author's Note:**

> For a long time I wanted to do some suspension kink, only involving use of the Force instead of physical ropes and restraints. This is what came from that idea!

Squad Commander Lysandra Tyndall considers herself a soldier of the highest order. She’s not the kind of person to crumble under pressure, nor balk at unfamiliar or unexpected sights. After all the battles she’d weathered, comrades she’d witnessed die, enemies she’d brought down with his own two hands, little still fazes her. 

But the regime of the new Supreme Leader is shaking even her usual ironclad mettle down to the core. As Tyndall walks down the corridor towards the throne room, passing regimented Sith Troopers standing guard with light reflecting off their sleek red armor, images of her last visit flash in her mind—more specifically, the sight of armed six mercenaries in dingy black attire, standing equidistant in a circle around the throne and engaged in a low droning dirge that never ceased, not even when the Supreme Leader debriefed him regarding his mission. Tyndall remembers distinctly feeling like she’d violated some kind of eerie ritual beyond his comprehension, but she’d been allowed to leave with her life—and a healthy dose of paranoia about what exactly the Supreme Leader and his cohorts were doing with their new dominion over the First Order.

But it’s not her duty to question the actions of her superiors, strange as they are. Her duty is only to report the outcome of her missions in a prompt and respectful fashion, which is the reason for the meeting today. 

She’s expecting it to go fairly smoothly, having no reason to believe otherwise. The mission had been a rousing success, with minimal casualties and victory snatched from the jaws of the Resistance. The Supreme Leader will register his satisfaction and send her on her way with further instructions, and that will be that, with no funny business. 

After all, surely—Tyndall thinks as the double doors to the throne room open up before her—_surely _ nothing can be stranger than what she’s already witnessed. 

“Commander Tyndall,” the Supreme Leader greets her, low voice creeping over the clack of her boots on the sleek floor. She rolls his shoulders back and straightens her posture, only to stumble over her words as she catches sight of something floating in the air to the right of the Supreme Leader’s imposing throne. What she sees makes her do an uncharacteristic double-take. 

If not for the familiar shock of ginger hair atop his head, Tyndall would’ve never pegged the man hanging aloft, as if suspended by invisible ropes, as General Hux. She’s seen him infrequently over his years in service to the Order, but every time she has Hux’s been straight-backed and haughty, and—most importantly—standing, with both feet planted firmly on the ground. 

Seeing him limp and helpless is something Tyndall feels sure certain individuals within the Order might be delighted to witness, but it only unsettles her. She tries to pull her eyes away, but finds she can’t, until that low voice graces her ears once again. 

“Is something on your mind?” The Supreme Leader’s addresses her, his head tipping curiously to the side. “You seem distracted, commander.”

Thanks to the filter built into the helmet, Tyndall can’t tell from his tone whether he’s amused or angered. Either way, it matters little, so she reigns in her shock, trying to ignore Hux’s presence and refocus on his duty. Rumors she’s heard over the years nag at her mind and beg for validation, but she pushes them away for the time being. Best to give her report, and get the hell out of here, before she sees something else that truly might scar her for life. 

“No sir,” she replies. 

“Good.” The Supreme Leader seems to relax in his seat. “Then give me your full report on the situation on Tantalus.”

Tyndall launches into her spiel immediately, trying to focus on the Supreme Leader and the words coming out of her mouth and little else. And it works, for a moment, until an unexpected sound reaches her ears.

_ Plink. Plink. Plink. _

She falters in his report, eyes skirting furtively in what she hopes perhaps in futility is a secretive glance, trying to find the source of the sound. In her periphery, she notices a pool of _ something _ glistening beneath General Hux’s suspended body, but a warning feeling inside of her tells her not to look at it too closely. She’s learned from endless and varied combat experience to trust her gut instinct, so Tyndall presses forward with the report, even as the dripping noise continues, making her muscles twitch in a disturbed rhythm beneath her uniform. 

Hux stares at her with distant, red-rimmed eyes, cheeks clouded with an odd blush, but she pretends not to notice. The Supreme Leader pays him little mind, so Tyndall attempts to follow his example as she finishes her statement. 

“—my squadron awaits any further instruction from you, sir.”

For a moment, all is quiet. The Supreme Leader seems to draw out the pause intentionally, as if daring Tyndall to sneak another look at the hapless General Hux, but she keeps her gaze steely and firmly—if still subserviently—locked on his helmet’s impassive visage. 

“Very good, commander. You’ve performed above and beyond my expectations.” Tyndall hears him take a slow breath before proceeding. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to report? Or perhaps, something you’d like to inquire about?”

She tenses as the Supreme Leader plants the lure, tempting her to seek answer for all her lingering questions, but she stays as unflappable as he can. “No sir,” Tyndall replies, proud her voice doesn’t waver even as her stomach flutters with apprehension. The Supreme Leader responds with another curious head tilt and a low, musing _ hmm_. 

Tyndall can’t tell if he’s disappointed or not that she didn’t choose to bring up the state of the general. For a moment, as he stretches out the silence again, she wonders if maybe the Supreme Leader will draw attention to it, maybe—she shudders to think—invite her to participate in whatever strange punishment he’s inflicting upon the poor Hux. But then Kylo speaks again, switching gears entirely. 

“Very well then. Your squadron will be sent further instructions on how to proceed on Tantalus. You are dismissed.”

And not a moment too soon. As Tyndall turns, she hears a noise coming from General Hux, one that she could probably identify if she thought about it for longer than a split second, but wisely she chooses not to. The Supreme Leader probably notices the uptick in the pace of her stride, her eagerness to leave the throne room as quickly as possible no doubt a flaring beacon to her apparent extrasensory abilities, but thankfully he doesn’t stop or try to intimidate her any further. 

Tyndall feels shaken. The whole experience has been utterly befuddling, far outstripping her previous encounter with the Supreme Leader’s gang of mismatched misfit mercenaries by at least a couple of lightyears. She wants to forget it as soon as she leaves through the double doors, rally her nerves and focus only on leading her squad to further victories. 

But Tyndall comes away from the meeting knowing one thing for certain. 

Whatever mystical infection Kylo Ren has introduced to the First Order, it’s permeated and perverted everyone it’s touched, all the way up to the highest, formerly most respectable of ranked officers. 

* * *

Kylo watches the squad commander leave, waiting until the doors slide completely closed before removing his helmet. The servomotors hiss in the quiet of the throne room as they open, allowing his inky black hair to slide free and cascade over his neck and shoulders. Kylo plants the helmet on the arm of the throne before rising to his feet, hooded cape unfurling about his body in a similar fashion to his liberated locks. 

_ Plink. Plink_. The dripping sound he’d watched Commander Tyndall valiantly try to ignore continues, now much softer, slowing. Kylo’s eyes narrow, zeroing in on its source—General Hux’s hanging body. 

With his vulnerable rear facing the throne, Kylo gets a good view of the split torn through the seam of the general’s jodhpurs, the usually pristine material frayed and soaked in a mixture of dried lube and flaking, semisolid spend. Hux legs are bent, curled back against his body, ankles invisibly trussed to his wrists as if he were a captive hind. His head hangs from his neck, pulled down by gravity, Hux having lost any strength he had to keep it aloft. 

Outsiders would assume this is some sort of punishment. Kylo is more than content to allow them to believe that, or whatever they’d like. The details of the opinions of those beneath him matter little in the grand scheme of things. As long as his subordinates do as he asks of them and don’t plot against his aspirations, he could care less about what else goes on in their limited minds. 

Including that of Hux, who he knows would far prefer they experiment with the sexual applications of Kylo’s Force abilities in the privacy of the bedroom. But Kylo also knows a deep, closely guarded part of Hux’s psyche _ craves _ the sort of humiliation that bringing in an unwitting voyeur creates. And once Kylo’s discovered something new and sordid about Hux’s desires, he refuses to let it go without thoroughly exploiting it first. 

“You look good this way,” Kylo speaks up as he rises from the throne, watching the shiver in Hux’s body move from the back of his neck all the way down his spine, “helpless. Wide-open. Ripe for the taking.”

And take Kylo does. With a wave of his hand, he floats Hux closer, turning him over onto his back with little effort. He changes his grip on Hux’s legs and splays them open, knees now peaked upwards, displaying the full extent of the stained rip in the crotch of his jodhpurs to Kylo’s eyes. They’re hungry, dark and pitiless with lust. 

“You enjoy being my toy, don’t you general?” Kylo croons as he starts to palm his growing cock through the crotch of his pants. He’d cleaned himself up in between rounds, not wanting to sit on the already uncomfortable throne with come-stained fabric sticking to his skin. Hux had been afforded no such courtesy, as Kylo enjoyed watching him hang helpless, filled with drying come, draining like a slaughtered beast left to bleed out upon the floor. 

Hux doesn’t even bother to respond with anything other than a hoarse moan, his voice already spent from their earlier trysts. Kylo recalls his screams of ecstasy fondly, but the rasp of his wrecked throat is nearly as pleasant to hear. If all goes well, Hux won’t be able to speak for the next several days. 

Kylo spreads the bead of pre-come at the tip of his cock down the sides of his shaft, slicking it up with the paltry bit of fluid. He doesn’t mind the burn of friction as he sinks into Hux’s abused hole. Neither does the general, if the anticipatory shiver Kylo can sense quaking past his weak mental walls is any indication. Hux just needs to trust his desires to Kylo, and forget silly things like dignity and diffidence. He needs to realize that the opinions of those beneath them don’t matter, just as Kylo has. All that matters is the power and pleasure they create together. 

This is no punishment. But perhaps it’s yet another in a series of lessons the general sorely needs to learn. 

Hux manages to lift his head when Kylo presses his cock against his messy hole, eyelids fluttering and lips parted as he watches the length begin to sink inside of him. The Force seizes him by the shoulders, pressing him against Kylo’s hips, forcing more of the cock through his still-tight hole. Kylo groans at the pressure, unable to resist grasping the clothed backs of Hux’s thighs as he sinks all the way inside. He can feel his old spend mingling with the pre-come coating his cock, can hear a soft _ squelch _ as the girth squeezes gummy droplets of it out of Hux’s ass. Kylo can hear Hux’s voice in his head, calling this all sorts of things—_vile, debauched, disgusting_—but the real Hux can only let out a warbly moan as Kylo’s cock fits up to the root inside of him. 

“Think of no one else,” Kylo soothes, leaning over Hux, trailing his fingers down his quaking stomach, “nobody else matters when you are _ mine."_

From there, the Force takes control, swaying Hux’s body back and forth in time with Kylo’s thrusts, keeping the general sheathed on his cock while also ruthlessly fucking him with it. The invisible grasp tightens around Hux’s body, so intimately and with such greedy insistence that Kylo swears at some point he sees indentations in the general’s clothes and exposed skin around the throat and wrists. Hux’s face grows red, unable to take in a proper breath in between the relentless fucking and the pressure of the Force all around him—keeping him floating, trapped, keeping him _ Kylo’s _ whether he fully wanted that or not. 

Hux comes in his pants long before Kylo follows suit, staining the already ruined fabric of his jodhpurs as the Force spears Kylo’s cock against the general’s prostate. The fluttery vibrations running through Hux’s body as Kylo pushes him into overstimulation quickly wring out the last of his endurance, and with a hearty grunt and one last, possessive clench of the Force Kylo buries his cock fully home and unleashes another gush of come deep into Hux’s overabused body. Pent up need quickly fills Hux to the brim, the last of the old come oozing out as a fresh flood makes the general moan and squirm with the sudden warmth and wetness seeping indelibly inside. 

“Hungry,” Kylo drawls, keeping his cock inside of Hux as it starts to soften. “You’d like nothing more than to be filled and plugged with come as much as possible, wouldn’t you?” Kylo expects no answer and he doesn’t receive any. It doesn’t matter. He can take the truth from within the crumbling walls of Hux’s mind, and that satisfies him far more than any vocal affirmation ever could. Hux would never give him that, anyway, not even if his life were on the line. 

When Kylo finally slips out, come trails after him, staining Hux’s ripped jodhpurs even further. The garment is already ruined, so there’s no point in trying to clean it. He leaves it, even wiping the excess come from his palm against the leg. Hux’s head lolls to the side, entire body pliant with pleasure, so much so that he hardly fights Kylo at all when he readjusts Hux’s position, flipping him back onto his belly and pulling his wrists and ankles together in strappado. Kylo eyes the general’s freshly sopping hole as he moves back towards his throne, sitting with his legs spread, helmet returning to encase his expression in impassive denial. 

There will be time for another round later on. After all, Kylo still has to meet with Allegiant General Pryde before the cycle is through. 

And first impressions are key.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I love comments! Let me know if you enjoyed this and would like to see more kinky fic in this same vein in the future. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
